


The Story

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [12]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 00:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some stories that would be wildly inappropriate to tell your four year old daughter. Follows on from Primary Caregiver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story

**Author's Note:**

> It is likely I will write a Harry verse story in the future that chronologically is set before this, but I like to write whilst I am inspired. This is set about three years after Fur Ball.

A massive ball of pink nylon leapt into the air and landed theatrically upon the sofa. Richard wondered when she had found the time to change into her tutu, he swore a few moments before she was wearing more conventional attire. After a few moments of lying there she let out a massive sigh and declared, “I am _SO_ bored.”

Alex was also _so_ dramatic. At four, Harry had been a relatively quiet child – so much so Richard had become concerned he had perhaps passed on traits that would hold the child back in life. Just as Camille had said they would be, his worries were proved to be baseless. He had never had any similar concerns with Alexandra. Before she could speak, she would sit up babbling happily to herself or anyone who came into her eye line. The health worker who visited when she was two informed them Alex knew at least twice as many words as would be expected for a toddler and told them to keep encouraging her to talk.

The girl needed _no_ encouragement. In fact, if she was not certain you were paying 100% attention to her, she threw tantrums of such ferocity that Richard shuddered at the memories of them. He insisted that their daughter had inherited her dramatic flair, rapid mood changes and talkative nature from Camille – at times Richard questioned if his genetics were having _any_ influence on her at all. Alex was definitely not a ‘Daddy’s girl’ – but then neither was she particularly attached to Camille. The person who actually had her heart was Catherine – who, much to Richard and Camille’s dismay, was perfectly willing to fulfil every demand of the girl making it so much harder for them to exert any sort of control.

At Alex’s declaration of boredom, he had shared a panicked look with his wife. Unless they came up with a suitable distraction soon she would become a little terror again. They were seriously considering sending her to school 6 months early, hoping that environment would prove stimulating enough. Alex was smart and many of her tantrums were borne from the sheer frustration of boredom (Camille didn’t hesitate to point out that he also got rather moody when bored, so she was likely to have inherited that trait from him) – but unlike Harry they could not seem to find anything for her to channel all that intelligence and energy into.

The thing they had tried most recently was ballet – hence the outfit she was currently sporting – but Alex lacked the grace of the other girls. At four, this shouldn’t really matter and none of the parents who sent the children to the class actually expected them to become ballerinas, it was just for fun. However, much to both Richard and Camille’s dismay, Alex quickly seemed to realise that she was not as co-ordinated as her peers and wept so much about it they simply had to end the classes before it broke their hearts. She still liked to wear the costume at home where she didn’t feel any pressure to perform perfectly.

Alex was not so interested in reading either, she wouldn’t sit quietly with a book like Harry had. She _loved_ stories but she always wanted them told to her – preferably with as much of the action acted out as possible. Initially she had liked adventure stories – pirates, spies and other tales were her favourite. More recently she had entered a girly phase, something Richard was convinced Catherine was responsible for this. In the space of one afternoon with her Grandmother, during which they had gone shopping, Alex had gone from not really caring about what she wore to insisting everything be pink OR flowery OR both. She now spent what seemed liked _forever_ deciding on what accessories to wear – even though her collection consisted of about 3 chunky plastic necklaces, a couple of rubbery bangles and slightly bent out of shape tiara from when she was a flower girl. For about a week she had wanted to be exclusively called Alexandra (which secretly pleased Richard who preferred his daughter’s full name) but she had abandoned it when Catherine had bought her a new necklace that said Alex. That one she only wore for very special occasions.

“How about a story then, Alex?” Camille suggested, dragging Richard’s thoughts back to their current problem.  

“Yes! That would be good!” She clambered into a standing position on the sofa now, peering over the top at her parents expectantly.

Camille sighed, she knew Alex was likely to want a very specific story, so there was no point in her making a suggestion, “And what kind of story do you want?”

Alex considered this for about a microsecond and then replied, “I want a love story!”

Oh well, that cleared Richard of responsibility, Camille knew he wouldn’t be able to make up anything the slightest bit romantic. He shot her a little smirk and she narrowed her eyes in return, gloating probably wasn’t the best idea if he wanted an easy life.

“Okay,” Camille said, rising to join her daughter on the sofa. “Well, then, once upon a time…”

“Wait!” Alex cried. Richard had always been impressed by how much authority her tone held for one so young, something else he was sure was inherited from Camille. “I want to story of how you and Daddy got together.”

Richard nearly choked on his tea.

 

* * *

 

**_Ten years previously_ **

 

Camille looked down at her boss and smiled. There must have been a power cut in the night, because his radio alarm was blinking uselessly beside him and he was most definitely still asleep. There was only one reason she hadn’t woken him yet: he looked so damn cute. Richard was wearing a small smile on his face, so Camille assumed he was having a good dream, so that gave her another excuse to delay waking him. She was pretty tempted to get out her phone and take a quick snap, but he’d kill her if he ever found out.

As she looked at him, Camille realised it wasn’t just amusement she was feeling. There was something mingled in there that felt very much like longing. With a jolt, she realised this was an image she wanted to see again in the future, but not because his alarm had failed to go off. She wasn’t stupid, she had realised she was fonder of him than she should be. She’d certainly made an effort to try to get him to trust her enough to open up and was thrilled each time she succeeded. She’d thought they were heading towards something slowly, that it would be easier for her to step back if it looked like it would never work, but she was fooling herself. She had fallen hard.

She gave a small sigh, and decided there was no point in watching him any further. Now she realised the reality of her feelings to continue seemed a bit stalker-ish. Initially she had considered waking him in a manner that would amuse her more than him, but now she didn’t have the heart for it. She leaned over and gave him a little shake, but he just mumbled gently and rolled over. Camille had sworn she had heard her name, but decided it was wishful thinking.

She leaned over him, “Richard?” She said softly, hand on his arm again.

What happened next was a complete shock to her, but one she would later claim to be the _best shock ever_. Richard, still half asleep, grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bed with him and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly. Her cry of surprise was muffled by his mouth, but it was mere moments before she had closed her eyes and was kissing him back. She didn’t know where the hell this had come from, but she was not complaining!

He broke off, moving down to kiss her neck. She sighed in contentment and, when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, gasped out his name. For some reason, he immediately ceased, and looked up in alarm.

He leapt off her and out of the bed. “You’re real!” He cried stupidly. Camille was still breathing heavily and feeling a little dazed by their activities, so she had no clue what he was on about.

“I thought you were a dream!” He told her, clearly distressed by his behaviour.

Ah, so she had been right about that little smile then. She shot him a grin, and asked brazenly, “Do you often dream about me like that?”

“NO!” he was quick to deny, much to her disappointment. Then she watched with no small amount of amusement as he became even more flustered by telling what was clearly a lie. “Well, I mean, I can’t be held responsible for my subconscious!”

“Oh no, of course not,” she agreed in a conciliatory tone, but still smiling.

“I’m _so_ sorry! I mean, I totally understand if you feel the need to report me but… I honestly, I didn’t mean to…”

“Richard!” She interrupted sharply. He looked at her, clearly expecting to get some sort of dressing down for his behaviour. “Use that brain of yours for a second will you and _think_ about what was just happening!”

He did as instructed, and Camille could guess when the penny finally dropped from the slow smile that spread across his face, “You were kissing me back.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, standing and coming over to him. She wanted him within reach in case he spent much longer hesitating.

“Camille…” he hesitated. “I, um, I don’t just want you because, you know, um, you’re attractive.”

She never thought she would say this, but his shyness was pretty damn attractive. “Oh you mean you love me for my mind, as well?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them, realising that just because he was admitting he wanted more than just sex did not mean he was quite as far gone as she was.

“I do,” he said, and she looked up at him heart filling with hope. “I do love you.”

She knew she should say it back, but her initial reaction was to throw herself at him and kiss him. It was Richard’s turn to squeak in surprise – a noise that wasn’t exactly manly, but she would forgive him anything in this moment.

She broke away long enough to gasp, “I love you too! Now, come back to bed.” She started to physically manhandle him back towards the bed, not caring if she looked wanton.

“We’re going to be late for work!” Richard managed to say between kisses.

With a great sigh, she stepped away from him. He was right, of course, and there absence was sure to be noticed. Still, she wished he’d just be spontaneous for _once_. When she looked back at him, deeming herself to now be a little more in control, she was surprised to find him smirking at her.

“Oh, I wasn’t discouraging you, it was more a statement of fact.”

She gave him a shove in revenge, it was just a happy coincidence it led to them both tumbling onto the bed. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

 

* * *

 

 

Afterwards, she stretched lazily and snuggling into him. He stroked her hair, and Camille wondered if they could realistically get away with staying in bed for another half hour…or half day. She should probably check her phone, was sure she’d find half a dozen messages, but for the moment she was too content to move.

“That was fantastic,” Richard said, finally breaking the silence. “But there is one small problem…”

She sat up, suddenly full of concern. He seemed like he’d enjoyed it, and she _definitely_ had, so what could be the issue?

“I’m not sure how I’ll ever _not_ want to be doing that, or this. I mean, I expect at some point somebody will want me to solve some murders, and I don’t think the excuse of ‘I’d rather stay in bed with Camille’ is going to cut the mustard.”

She laughed, then said in a sympathetic tone, “Oh, you _poor_ thing.”

“Well I think it is cruel, knowing I’m only allowed to see you naked some of the time!” He wore an expression of mock indignation, which she kissed away with ease.

“We need to come up with a story,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What, for why we are late? We’ll just say the Defender was playing up or got a flat or something,” she said dismissively. Whatever they came up with the boys would probably guess was a lie anyway.

“Well, that is a good idea, but it isn’t actually what I meant. Think about it, when people ask we can’t tell them how we actually, uh, commenced this stage of our relationship, can we?”

“Why not?” She knew she was being provocative asking that, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him.

“Camille! It’s far too, too, intimate to share!” He was blushing profusely, which only made her love him more.

“I’m only teasing.” Truth be told, she rather liked the idea of them having the story all to themselves. “Fine, we’ll say you saw me flirting with another man and you were struck by jealously, causing you to march over and finally ask me out to dinner! Then things progressed as normal from there.”

“Why is it me who has to be the jealous one? Maybe you saw me flirting with another woman…”

“Richard, which of the two scenarios sounds like it might actually have taken place?”

He thought about, then conceded, “I take your point. Maybe we don’t need an _actual_ story, we could just be deliberately vague.”

“Whatever you want,” Camille told him.

 

* * *

 

**_Present day_.**

 

Camille rolled her eyes at her husband’s alarm. Richard _always_ assumed the worst. The phrasing of Alex’s question was perfectly innocent, but Camille knew exactly what incident Richard was thinking about and yes, it would definitely be inappropriate to tell Alex that story. They hadn’t even had that particular talk with Alex yet. Unlike Harry, who had been desperate for a sibling, Alex spent quite a bit of time trying to get rid of hers. A few weeks ago, she had informed Camille that she thought it would be best if Harry was returned to the shop he was bought from as he was clearly ‘not fit for purpose’. The fact she quoted the Sales of Goods Act made her decide that next time Richard went to return something, he shouldn’t bring Alex with him. Camille had been amused that Alex seemed to think children were bought, and had decided not to correct her for the moment.

Harry did love his sister, but probably wouldn’t mind wishing her away on occasions as well. He’d gotten really quite good at cricket, in fact he was at practise at the moment. Richard and Camille were both proud of him, though Camille still didn’t understand the rules. She would dutifully attend the matches, dragging Alex along, who always managed to find some way to embarrass her older brother.

“Well you know your father and I were both police officers together before we got married,” she reminded the girl, in the hopes she would quickly realise it was not a story worth telling.  

“But there must be a story of how you went from being colleagues to being married?” Alex was looking huffy, and Camille considered making something up. But if she did that, Alex would tell other people, who would be confused as to where she got such fanciful ideas from.

“Well, we became friends, and then because we spent so much time together we sort of…fell in love.” That sounded lame even to Camille, she was wishing she and Richard had actually come up with a story all those years ago.

Alex was looking at her with something akin to disgust, “You _just_ fell in love?”

Camille nodded mutely, and Richard stepped in to help out, “That’s sometimes how these things work, darling.”

“That isn’t romantic, that’s, it’s, BORING!” Throwing both arms in the air, she jumped from the sofa and practically stormed from the room. Camille made a mental note to look into drama clubs.

“It wasn’t very romantic, really, was it?” Richard said. To her surprise he was looking a little despondent, like he had failed at something.

She moved back to the table, sat down opposite him and said sincerely, “Ithought it was romantic.” He gave her a disbelieving look, apparently assuming she was just trying to mollify him. Well, she would have to prove that wasn’t the case.

“That day, when we first…you know,” he nodded, glancing warily behind him in case Alex came back in. “It was the first day I realised I was in love with you. I knew I had feelings for you, but when I saw you sleeping I realised that I wanted to see that every day. That all the time I had spent harassing you and teasing you and trying to get to know you, it had resulted in me falling in love with you without even realising it. And then your subconscious, which you cannot be held responsible for, turned out to have to most perfect timing…”

“You never told me that before,” he said, clearly wanting to know why.

“I know, and I don’t know why. I mean, we never really asked each other about when the other fell in love, did we?”

“I was far too grateful to question it, if I’d done so you might have questioned it yourself and changed your mind!”

“Not in a million years,” she reassured him, then waited patiently. When he wasn’t forthcoming, she sighed and probed, “Go on then, when did you realise you were in love with me.”

“Oh right, um, well I guess it started when you were shouting at me in the hotel during the first murder we worked on, remember?” She nodded emphatically, how could she _ever_ forget that? “And then I knew I was a complete goner when I chased you down the beach like I was possessed. Only you could induce me to do that, and I knew I was lost to you forever in that moment. I’m not really sure what happened in between though…”

She knew what he meant because the same thing had happened to her. She leant over and kissed him, heart leaping in the same way it had when he’d done it for the first time all those years ago.

“I don’t want another brother.” The firm announcement caused them to break apart rapidly. Alex had re-entered the room without the usual drama that announced such an event and as a consequence had caught them kissing.

“Excuse me?” Camille asked her daughter.

“Kissing leads to sex and sex leads to babies, and I don’t want another brother,” Alex continued calmly.

Richard was too busy looking stricken to deal with the situation, so Camille asked the obvious question, “Who told you about sex and where babies come from?”

“Harry, I told I was going to get him returned to the shop and he explained that wasn’t where babies come from.” Richard groaned, he’d probably prefer it if both the children had been entirely clueless about sex until they were at least 25. Camille was more worried Harry might have thrown in a few esoteric details to wind his sister up.

“Well, I mean I wish you’d told me sweetheart. If you have any questions you know you can always come ask me,” she prompted, hoping Alex would divulge what she had been told.

“Nope,” she skipped off, and Camille sighed knowing she would now have to question her son to find out what he had told her.

Just before leaving the room, her daughter turned back around and declared emphatically, “I can’t believe you’ve had sex _twice_!”

Camille decided that would be one misconception she wouldn’t correct yet. 


End file.
